


Runaway Impulses

by frecklebomb



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Hiccups, Humor, M/M, Team Bonding, Toronto Maple Leafs, gotta be a bro 4 ur bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebomb
Summary: “Twelve minutes,” said JT.Mitch dramatically threw himself down into a stall. “Nothing is gonna wu-work! I’m gonna have hiccups forever!"





	Runaway Impulses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlmarauders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/gifts).

> This fic was born when The Rec Centre newsletter earlier this summer (#186) included this gem ([link to tumblr](https://whetherwoman.tumblr.com/post/185969321581/new-fanfic-trope)).

Auston looked up from his phone to see what was happening, to find the room exactly the same as it was before. Mo and JT were each reading from their phone and tablet intently. There was some noise from the the hall outside, but it seemed like most everyone had cleared out, and Freddie almost looked like he could be meditating where he was half-sprawled in his stall, even though Auston knew he was watching everything. Mitch was still pacing around the logo, full of twitchy energy. He hiccuped right then, as if to stop Auston from asking for an update. He huffed and shook out his arms. “How long has it been _now_?”

JT flicked his finger over his screen and read out the time without looking up. “Nine minutes forty.” Mitch somehow flailed all of his limbs out at once, spun around, and continued pacing.

Mo stood up, still scrolling through whatever he was reading. “That’s," he paused, "yeah, that’s within normal.” He looked up from his phone. “It’s ok Mitchy, they’ll pass, you’re gonna be ok."

The door swung open then, and Patty poked his head through, a towel around his neck. “You still going, bud?” Mitch took a deep breath through his nose, but hiccuped halfway through, screwed up his face and made a kind of frustrated growl. Patty looked sympathetic. “Looks pretty bad. You tried the water thing?”

“Yeah,” JT said, from the other side of the room.

“Tried scaring him?” said Patty, rubbing his chin.

“Yes!” Mitch said, not looking happy at where the conversation was headed.

“Tickling?”

The room descended into silent stares. Silence, interrupted regularly by Mitch. They’d tried tickling, but Mitch’s reflexes were, like, _really_ strong, and the collateral damage hadn’t been worth the extremely minor benefit. He’d continued to hiccup through them all nursing their injuries in the aftermath.

“Just thought it was worth mentioning. Stick at it!” Patty threw them a thumbs-up as he disappeared. It was quiet for a while after he left, except for Mitch’s little gaspy hiccups.

“Twelve minutes,” said JT. Mitch dramatically threw himself down into a stall and tipped his head all the way back. He made a long kind of whining groan.

“_Nothing_ is gonna wu-work! I’m gonna have hiccups forever, I’m gonna be like that lady-y who had them for the rest of her life! I’m gonna have to have tha-that operation on, like, my lungs!”

Mo approached him slowly, like he might run away, making calming gestures with his hands even though Mitch wasn’t looking. “Hey, it’s ok, buddy. You’re gonna be alright. It just feels like longer that it is, because of adrenaline and stuff.”

Mitch’s head shot up, and he glared at Mo. “What? No, it feels like exa-exactly as long as it’s been!”

Mo eased into the stall next to Mitch, nodding. “Sure, bro. You don’t need to panic, though, yeah? We’ll get this figured out for you.”

Mitch was immediately back up and pacing around the logo again. “You don’t know that! My cari-career is at stake—”

Auston zoned out of Mo talking Mitch down from whatever panic he was working himself up into. Freddie was watching them intently, with his listening face on. Auston felt vaguely bad about not getting more involved, but Mo had Mitch covered, and JT was all over the research. Auston didn’t have anything extra to bring to the table here. 

“Hey, guys? I found something.” Everyone looked up when JT spoke, and waited for him to continue. “It’s off the New Scientist, so I think it’s legit. Listen to this.”

Auston stopped following almost immediately, the words he didn’t understand just kind of washing over him in JT’s low voice. He should probably have asked for the link so he could read along, if JT was going to read out the entire freaking article. He unlocked his phone to have something to look at, while he waited for him to get to the point. 

Abruptly he became aware that the room had gone quiet, apart from Mitch’s hiccups. Had he missed something important? Mitch was looking at him. So was Freddie. Oh. Everyone was looking at him. 

“What.” Nobody said anything. Shit, he’d definitely missed something. “Like, whatever Mitchy wants to do is fine.” That’s probably good. Mitchy’s the one in trouble, be a bro and go along with what he wants. Right?

Mo took a deep breath that sounded like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Were you even listening, Matts?”

“...yeah?”

Auston saw Freddie raise a single eyebrow at him, and knew beyond a doubt that he was busted.

“Ok, fine, I wasn’t listening.”

Mo nodded at JT, who raised his tablet again, and Auston braced himself for more nonsense. “I’m paraphrasing,” oh, thank fuck, “but apparently ‘sex – culminating with orgasm – is recommended as a cure-all for intractable hiccups’. If Mitch has sex, he’ll be cured."

Mitch, still apparently very tense, cut in, “Culminating in orgasm!”

“Yeah, we heard that bit, Mitchy,” said Mo, patiently. 

Auston looked around the room. “Oh-kay?” 

There was a long silence. All at the same time, everyone seemed to realise that it was silent in the room, for once. They all turned to look at Mitch. Auston could feel the tension in the air, thick like humidity, as they waited. 

Mitch hiccuped, so hard that Auston thought he saw his chest convulse before he heard it. 

“Seventeen minutes ten,” JT said, reading off the timer on his tablet. Mo sighed. 

Auston took a deep breath, and ran a hand over his face. “Okay, so. If I have sex with Mitch, that's guaranteed to stop the hiccups?”

Mo immediately switched on Alternate Captain Voice, “Nobody has any expectations, Matts.”

“I have expectations!” Mitch added, hurriedly. 

Auston sat there, everyone’s eyes on him. He thought about dragging Mitch into the hall to have this conversation, where he wouldn’t feel so observed. But leaving the crisis room, or whatever this place had turned into, would be just as conspicuous as whatever his face was doing right now. 

Mitch huffed an enormous, put-upon sigh, “Matts, come on, we already had sex tha-that one time.” 

Everyone was looking at him again. Freddie raised both eyebrows at him. Shit. 

“We said weren’t gonna tell anyone about that,” Auston whisper-yelled at Mitch. 

Mitch made a sassy face back at him, but less effective than usual because of the hiccups still juddering through him. 

Auston closed his eyes for a moment, to think. Mitchy was in trouble, and he was probably scared. He should be a bro, even if they _had_ agreed not to tell anyone about that. 

He sighed, and nodded. “I’ll do it. Come on, Mitch, let’s go.” Auston grabbed for his bag and started rummaging for his keys. 

Mitch didn’t move, just stood there in the middle of the room. “Why can’t we do it here?” he said, with a whine in his voice.

Auston stopped where he was standing, his bag on his shoulder, and grimaced, “I don’t wanna, like, do it in a trainer’s room. What if I’m getting a massage there tomorrow? Gross.” He gestured vaguely but optimistically towards the door.

“But I have th-the hiccups _now_.” Mitch was bouncing on his toes, nearly vibrating with how tense he was. 

Auston tried to herd him towards the door, silently trying to ask the others for help with his eyes. “I’m not boning at the arena, man. It smells like hockey here. We both have perfectly good condos, can we just go to one of those?” 

Between the three of them, with absolutely no help from Mitch himself (or from Freddie, Auston noticed), they managed to wrangle Mitch and all his gear out of the locker room. 

\---

Auston remembers sex with Mitch being like this: a lot. A lot of everything. He’d always been demanding and bossy, but this was another level entirely. Frantic, and desperate, and it’s. It's kind of sexy? But also, “Mitch, Mitch, wait, waitwaitwait.”

“What?” Mitch said, distracted. He was just as breathless as Auston, and totally not paying attention.

“Stop for a second.” Auston peeled Mitch off him and rolled over to the side of the bed, and just breathed for a moment. “I can’t do this with you hiccuping in my face. Can you, like, stop?”

Mitch sat upright so fast that Auston didn't track the movement. “I literally can’t! That’s the whole pu-point why we’re doing this!”

Auston covered his face and huffed. This was so awkward. “Ok, yeah, but. I can’t do the making out.” They made eye contact for a moment before they both started giggling. “Turn over?” Auston managed.

Mitch shoved him in the arm. “_You_ turn over. Wait, no, actually, can you…” 

Auston let himself be arranged. He was into it.

\---

“Ok, where’s, gimme your phone, start a timer,” said Mitch, still panting hard, waving his arm in Auson's direction without looking. 

Auston ached in so many places. They'd played a game earlier today, and now this too. “Ugh, why?”

“We don’t know if it worked yet!”

“Fine.” Auston grabbed for his phone and thumbed open the timer app. “There, I did it.” They both lay there for a while, their breath coming back. Auston could feel his skin prickling with cooling sweat. “Can I go like, shower or something?”

Mitch rolled his head to look at him. “No, man. What if we need to go again?”

There was another long pause, just the sound of their breathing and the traffic outside. “Bro, how long until we know if it worked?” 

Mitch shrugged, “Dunno. We just have to, like, wait.”

Auston tried to get comfortable in the messy sheets, opened a game on his phone, and let his mind drift. A siren went past on the road outside and it jerked him back to where he was. He checked the timer, and saw that 20 minutes had already gone by. With a groan, he flipped his phone around and waved it in Mitch's direction. 

“Mitchy, look. I’m hungry. Can we at least, like, get delivery?” There was silence. No hiccups. He looked closer at Mitch in the semi-dark room. He’d rolled onto his side, so his back was to Auston. “Mitchy?”

Auston poked Mitch in the side and retreated quickly, not wanting to catch an elbow to the face. Nothing happened. Then, just when Auston was about to try again, Mitch snuffled into the pillow, rolled onto his back and snored gently. Auston looked at him for a moment, watched his smooth, even breathing, and then tapped open a delivery app. He hesitated for a few seconds before selecting their regular order at Mitch’s favourite place, instead of his. Mitch’d had a rough day. That’s what bros were for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to growlery for reassuring me about my first longform hockey fic and for being an incredible beta, and to girlmarauders for chatficcing this with me in the first place.
> 
> Girlmarauders, I hope it lives up to our initial idea ♥️
> 
> \- - -
> 
> The original article, also quoted in the fic, is here ([link to New Scientist](https://www.newscientist.com/article/dn10207-ig-nobel-prizes-hail-digital-rectal-massage/)).
> 
> Title is from the same article: "Runaway electrical impulses in the vagus nerve cause intractable hiccups" because science was my first love. (Working title was A Real Prize, paraphrased from a quote from the Ig Nobel prize winner, who had 'always hoped to win a real Nobel prize'.)


End file.
